The World through My Eyes
by PrincezzShortie
Summary: Harry reflects on how hard it was to be the "Boy Who Lived"


The World through My Eyes  
By: Taylor Bathel   
  
Authors Notes: This story is how Harry perceives his life. I will warn you, this might get a little depressing at times. Sorry about that! I hope you like it...I got the idea for this story when I was thinking how hard it would be to be an orphan [don't ask!]. I am not forcing you to review. However...remember this: Do how you would like others to do to you. If you want me to review your stories, please review mine.   
  
  
Disclaimer: Taylor Bathel is not affiliated with JK Rowling, Bloomsbury Publishing, Scholastic Books, Warner Bros., or anyone associated with the "Harry Potter" series. It is not endorsed by any of the aforementioned parties. Rights to the characters and their likenesses are neither claimed nor implied.   
  
  
Plagiarism Note: I created this story. I am not claiming the story line but the story. If I have copied your story in anyway please know that it was unintentional and that I was in no means trying to plagiarize you. If you need to contact me please e*mail me at: PrincezzShortie@AOL.com.   
  
The Boy who lived. That is who I am, that is my legacy. Branded at birth with a scar that would haunt me for the rest of my life. I was forced into a world where I would always have to play hero when all I really wanted to do was to cower and hide behind my mummy. I am looked upon whenever anything goes wrong. Looked upon for help when I am the one who needs it most.   
  
Raised in an environment where love was hidden and hate exposed. In a place where I was forced to survive with out love, hope, or compassion. In a world where people passed me on with out a single glance, a loving hug, or a tender kiss.   
  
My day finally came where I was introduced to a place where people respected me, loved me, and most of all cared for me...at least that is what I thought at first. I had many admirers but only two true friends. Those two friends are the reason I am here today. They pushed me, and drove me; to be who I am now, they loved me. They did not love me because I had conquered the most feared wizard of the age or because I had given them hope that the dark lord would not rise. They loved me because I was there to give them a pat on the back when they were feeling down or to hold them when they cried.   
  
The scar, the lighting bolt shape on my head. One little mark and I was forever branded as a person who would always be there to kneel on, to fall back on when things went wrong. Little did they know I was falling on the inside, I was screaming to be helped. I was a lost boy who need a way home. Home, the phrase seems so distant...like a memory that was wiped away but its footprints left behind. At first, I thought Hogwarts was home until that too left me too.   
  
The Burrow...one of the few places that seemed most like home. The people in that house loved me for me, they were my family, but they were ripped away from me in a most violent matter.  
  
The Grangers, Hermione had always been there to help me and care. She was like the mother I never knew. She could be scolding you one moment but than hold you so softly you felt everything was right in the world and that you could just float away on a silver edged cloud and all your worry's swiped softly away. She too was taken from me...ripped away leaving yet another hole in my soul.   
  
Why did everyone I ever cared for torn away from me? Was it because I cared too much...I cared too much that I just could not let them be? I could not just be a normal kid like everyone else? No...that would be to easy...I have to be the hero, the one who in the end makes everything alright, the one who everyone knows will make the story a happy ending. The chosen one.   
  
Voldemort. That man, no that thing is the reason I was an orphan at age one, the reason I am friendless and hopeless. The reason I am a "hero." He has taken away everything that ever gave hope or love, he has taken the one thing that is so vital: the will to live.   
  
My heart has turned to stone; my warm blood turned to cold. The very soul I feel has been sucked out as if by a dementor. My passion for life is all dried up. Even Quidditch, the one thing that used to keep me going has lost is novelty and it gives me no pleasure. It simply brings back memories of things long ago.   
  
I am an old bitter man now...my life has no meaning...I have no grandkids to share the wonderful stories of adventure with my friends with. No friends to visit me. No one to come over and talk about the latest Quidditch game with. No one to go visit with and have tea. No one to be with.   
  
The tale of Harry Potter, my life, is a sad one. I am looked upon by many, hated by some, and loved by none. I am not the hero I once was. I am not the boy who lived anymore.   
  
  
The End.  
  
  
Authors Note: OK, I know, I know...this was a very depressing fan fiction. I do not care! It is how I think Harry might be like if Voldemort destroys everything in his life. Please do not flame me. I know it is not great! Another thing...do not think I'm some sad, suicidal person. I am not! Actually, this is my first depressing fic! Ok I will leave now...bye!   
  
  
  



End file.
